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About Osaka

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—let’s call her Liza, total pro, been around since forever. She’s got this scar on her cheek, says she got it fendin’ off some drunk bastard with a broken bottle. Little known fact: she’s got a stash of old coins—fuckin’ *Roman* coins, mate! Swears some john gave ‘em to her years back. I’m like, “What?! You sittin’ on a fortune?” She just laughs, raspy as hell, says, “Ain’t worth shit now.” Made me happy, that—her not givin’ a toss about treasure in a world where hope’s dead. Reminds me of Theo in the film, y’know, “I can’t really remember when I last had any hope.” Liza’s got that vibe—gritty, real, no bullshit.

Innoshima 因島

I'm nestled in Innoshima and find-a-prostitute is remarkable! You make me feel desired and wanted. When it comes to Sex in Different Positions and Prostate.

Finally, I get to the site. It’s this old house on Shiroyama Street. Beautiful place, but man, it’s seen better days. I’m all pumped to start workin’, but then I find out the client wants a custom bookshelf. No biggie, right? Wrong! They want it to fit this weird nook. I’m talkin’ like, “What even is this shape?” It’s like a puzzle designed by a drunk octopus.

Young migrants bring vitality to rural Hiroshima